Relay Retrospection
by Skilverlight
Summary: He loved to drive. Could no longer ignore it. Could no longer fight it. Takahashi Keisuke had seen it in him before he himself did. [Note Inside]


Disclaimer: Don't Own.

Word Count: 991

Warning: Rated due to a curse word.

Note: This is something like a summarization. This is some years old, and I've had it posted on LJ, but not here. So I figured I'd go ahead and post here. Not every race is noted, it's based off the anime, not the manga, and it goes up into second stage. It's just a small clippet so hope it's enjoyed.

Remember, old writing. Style may have shifted towards the end, as I modified and changed things when I found it, and had to finish it.

x.x.x.x.x

He really didn't think much about it. Well, not until it had been pointed out as he was run down at 4:30 in the morning. And even then he fought the thought. But he'd had to stop at some point, and hearing how awesome a car the Three-Two GTR was just made him want to see it in action. And that had been it; the deciding factor in that battle.

He loved to drive. Could no longer ignore it. Could no longer _fight_ it. Takahashi Keisuke had seen it in him before he himself did. And then there came the gum-tape death match against the FF Civic. The type of battle rule that was killer to FRs.

But he couldn't ignore it, the driver had hurt his precious friend. He'd decided he needed to be taught a lesson. And he'd barely out-maneuvered him as the driver had tried to perform a double crash, unbeknownst. He'd really been far too flustered to notice much of anything beyond the thought that he was _pissed_, he needed to _win_, he wanted to go _home_.

Then there was the Sil-Eighty. That race had been thrilling and terrifying at the same time. After all, he'd been running on the assumption that if she could do it, so could he. And he'd won—barely—as she spun out. He didn't think he'd even found the course rhythm; he'd ridden the race, rather than run it.

Takumi remembered when he was working, and a flower delivery truck came. None other than Takahashi Ryousuke—Akagi's White Comet—was challenging him. The yells of surprise from his friends rang familiarly in his head just thinking of it. And Itsuki still spoke in fond memory of that summer.

He remembered that while he debated on things—like the future—how they thought his daydreaming had gotten worse. And how they'd taken—or rather, Takumi had taken Itsuki—to the Night Kids' and Red Suns' battle on Myogi. And how much of a thrill he'd gotten out of watching the battle. And then randomly, suddenly challenged to a downhill battle; in the rain.

And he'd easily passed the Orange S-14 after a few corners. And then there was the final race that summer. The one with the ever-famous Takahashi Ryousuke and his White FC. Takumi remembered clearly heading far too fast into that corner, and being passed. And how he had to fight to catch up.

But somehow, he'd made up for that blunder. And somehow, he won. But the after conversation he'd had with the elder racer would stick with him longer than most anything would for the rest of his life.

That he should race other passes, that he should expand his horizon away from Akina. And Takumi remembered denying that he was faster and that Takahashi Ryousuke had reassured him that, in fact he was, before saying his goodbye's and leaving Takumi to stand there; to think. Then the Lan Evo's appeared and he remembered going up Akina pass with Itsuki, watching as the white Evo IV made an interesting movement at the turn. It'd instantly piqued his interest, and Itsuki had just prattled away, answering the question that had appeared in Takumi's mind unbeknownst.

He'd raced the same Evo IV, as they threatened Akina; Gunma, and won. It was this race when he'd made his decision that racing on Akina just wasn't as fulfilling as it used to be. And that he wanted to race in other places; not Akina. Because he knew that if it'd been any other pass, he wouldn't have won. And the following day Sudou Kyouichi challenged him to race at Akagi with his Evo III; the day before he was to race Takahashi Ryousuke again.

Takumi hadn't been interested; he hadn't planned to go up there. But there'd been a catalyst to provoke him, and out of better judgment, he'd went. And in the process, in his anger, he'd blown the engine of his precious Eight-Six. And it'd been that that had cleared his mind, and he'd come to the realization that he regretted driving in his adolescent anger. He felt like an idiot, and was amazed that his father hadn't been angry; depressed because they were unable to repair the engine.

He remembered when he'd woken for the delivery one morning, only to be shocked to see the Eight-Six sitting in front of the shop. And he'd felt awkward when he sat in the bucket seat, and the weight when he pushed the clutch in surprised him. It was the morning where he'd been informed the car was now half his; because his father had used his hard earned money to repair the car.

Soon after, he'd met Akiyama Wataru, who helped him understand what it was he was lacking, and why the Eight-Six seemed to lose power whenever he up-shifted. The tachometer, which didn't go nearly high enough for the new engine that had been installed. And Takumi was quick to ask for help installing a new tachometer, in order to later race Wataru in his own Eight-Six. It was a race he most certainly wouldn't forget.

It'd been purely a battle of wills, wits, and focus. The pass had been rough, old, and most definitely in need of maintenance. Takumi had learned how to control his car, and make it run like he was used to during this long race; and it'd been his inerrant driving sense that'd allowed him to win the race. He hadn't wanted to lose _because_ it was another Eight-Six.

Takumi had driven home; only an hour before he had to be up to do the deliveries. And he'd asked his father to teach him—when he had the time—about engines and mechanics. When asked why he'd simply replied that he understood, now, what essential element he was lacking as a racer; before he'd went inside to sleep for the little less an hour of time he had.


End file.
